


Dead Man Walking

by Morvith



Series: Defy the Stars [1]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dying Khan, Explicit Language, Gen, Hiding Medical Issues, Hurt Khan, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Medical Experimentation, Medical Inaccuracies, Poisoning, Slow Burn, Violence, Warnings May Change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-18
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-02-09 11:00:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 16,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1980399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morvith/pseuds/Morvith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Section 31 made sure Khan couldn't survive without them: it was supposed to be the perfect leash. They didn't realize that, between his life and his family, he was always going to choose them. Even if his time is running out, he will find them: as long as he can save them, nothing else matters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Khan

**Author's Note:**

> With many thanks to the amazing BotanyCameos for all her help!

The second worst thing about being caught is, Marcus was expecting it: every second he thought he was slipping his leash, every time he believed himself one step ahead was all an illusion. He was nothing more than a mouse scurrying down a labyrint, blindly following the tracks somebody else had laid for him.

 

“I commend your cleverness, _Harrison_ : packing your crew in right next to highly explosive material, the very last place anyone would look... It was a brave plan. What a shame it didn't work out.” Marcus smirks, and Khan wishes he could punch his teeth down his throat. “I was hoping our collaboration would last a bit longer, but perhaps one of your crewmembers will prove more reasonable.”

 

Khan forces himself to remain still, to show nothing but blank contempt, even as his heart trembles: he remembers the first months after his awakening only too well.

 

“I know what you're thinking. You're probably worrying over your precious friends, mmm? Wondering which one will it be, imagining them going through the same tests...” Marcus leans back in his chair. “If I were you, I'd worry more about my fate.” Something must show on his face, then, because that odious smirk is back in place. “Oh, did you think you'd die for your little game? You will, but not before Dr. West is through with you. He's very anxious to start his experiments again... you remember them, don't you?”

 

Khan does. He has daily reminders of Dr. West's experiments, as Marcus knows very well.

 

“He has several new compounds he wishes to try. He'll be very happy to see you,” A group of security officers quietly surrounds him. “It was a pleasure working with you.”

 

As he's marched down to the medical laboratories, Khan's mind is a whirlwind.

They are taking him right to the source of the Beta-24. The hypospray with his first daily dose hasn't been delivered – a deliberate ploy to make him weaker, easier to control. Marcus only needs to get him down to the labs, then Dr. West's poisons will do the rest: if they get a single hypo in his system, there will be no escape.

 

So.

Disarm West and whoever else is in the room with him, find the Beta-24 and beat the lockdown protocols. Five minutes, probably less.

Even for a superior being such as himself, the odds are not good – but he has to try. No, he has to  _succeed._ His family needs him. 

 

*******

 

He makes it out in 4 minutes and 13 seconds.

West is dead. One threat dealt with, he'll never get his hands on his family, he'll never be allowed to hurt them... His experiments are nothing but ashes.

For the first time in years, he feels something bloom in his chest: it's not fear, his constant companion, nor anger and it takes him an embarrassingly long time to identify the new sensations. Satisfaction. Accomplishment.  _Relief._

 

It's almost enough to make him punch the walls in his temporary hide-out. Relief! What does he have to be relieved about? One down, _several thousands more to go_....

And Marcus is still alive, still out there with his crew.

 

For a moment, he wonders if he'll change his mind, if his escape has doomed them all...but no, Marcus is too arrogant, too greedy. He'll move the cryotubes, hide them somewhere he considers inaccessible, but he'll never destroy them.

And he won't fear Khan's wrath. He'll believe himself invulnerable, between his hostages and his “little failsafe.”

 

Khan runs a hand on the small metallic container he took from the laboratory before he set it on fire. Six vials of Beta-24, enough for three days.

Even if Marcus knows he has it, he won't be worried: what could he possibly do in three days?

 

Khan smiles.

 


	2. Khan

Section 31 is a fortress: detectors of every kind, biometric scans, cameras with the most advanced facial recognition software, random computer-generated codes... All the best that modern technology can offer.

But there's always the human factor.

It only takes four words to get him in.

 

“I can save her.”

 

How supremely ironic.

 

********

 

The torpedoes aren't here.

Well, not precisely: Section 31 is full of torpedoes, they just aren't _his._

How can they not be here, this is Starfleet's most secure location and the best suited to dismantle them, he didn't exactly wake up here by chance...

 

Evidently, Marcus doesn't consider him enough of a threat to move them... But there should be at least one. If he's not a threat, why wait?

No, Marcus is too careful for that. He knows what they can do at full strenght, he wouldn't risk waking up another member of his crew until he is sure he, Khan, is dead.

 

It doesn't matter. It was a foolish hope anyway. It would be easier if he wasn't alone, but it doesn't matter, he won't remain so for long.

 

Wherever his family is, their location must be written down somewhere. Good thing he came prepared: much like the building itself, Section 31's computer system is carefully guarded and impossible to hack – from the outside.

 

Harewood has already circumvented the cameras in this lab, but that's not enough, he has got something different in mind.

First, lock all the doors. At the same time, unleash his little pet, the very same computer virus Marcus wanted him to perfect – again, irony at its finest.

Within a few seconds, his program spreads to the whole system: every single thing they have on them, every scrap of data they got out of him and those 11 unlucky souls who didn't make it is being transferred to his PADD and permanently erased from its original location.

 

Part of him is still tempted to just erase it all, make sure nobody ever sees his shame, especially not his crew... but that's just pride talking, and what use is pride to a dead man anyway?

 

He can't destroy this, his crew has a right to know what to expect. Besides, who knows? Perhaps they'll be able to make something good out of it. Perhaps they'll even need it someday and he won't deny them any advantage.

Khan only wishes he could go through it at least once, erase a few things that they already know and wouldn't be missed... too much data, too little time and his program can't be accurate enough: it has to be all or nothing.

Better have it all, then.

 

Second step: cut off all ventilation, though not for long. Just until he's the only one left standing, or rather sitting: he'll need the oxygen later.

He adds a couple of subroutines that will aid his escape, then turns his attention to the chemicals in the lab. This would be more Malika's field, but he can adapt.

 

A couple of minutes later, the PADD chirps, signaling the transfer is completed. Just in time.

 

As he returns to collect it, Khan steps over Harewood's unconscious body and stops for a moment, considering. He didn't bother to pull his punch when he hit him and the minutes without air can't have helped, yet he's still breathing.

For all that he is a Starfleet lackey, he has been very useful: he would have never made it here without him and though he expected to be greeted by a security team, Harewood fully kept his end of the bargain.

 

Khan bends down and quickly snaps his neck. All debts are paid.

Smoke is rising from the countertop behind them.

 

Khan recovers his PADD and walks out, every door sliding open for him. He passes unmolested and unchallenged, his footsteps the only sound echoing under the high ceiling.

As the lift carries him up to the surface, down below the fire is spreading quickly, unstoppably. In the Archive, the fire alarm starts ringing at last, ground floor security immediately springing into action to evacuate the building.

 

Khan walks out of the front door among the scared patrons, barely resisting the sudden urge to wink at the cameras.

 

He barely makes it across the street before the Kelvin Memorial Archive disintegrates in a column of fire and smoke.

It's slightly earlier than his calculation indicated. Not good. Not good at all.

He must find them soon.

 

 


	3. Jim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings can be found at the end of the chapter

Jim takes his place next to Admiral Pike and tries to push his conversation with his former First Officer out of his head. This is no time for personal business.

 

“By now some of you have heard what happened in London,” Admiral Marcus begins, fairly growling with anger. “The target was a Starfleet data archive, now it's a damn hole in the ground, 37 men and women are dead. We believe the man responsible for this act of savagery is one our own, Commander John Harrison.” 

 

Harrison's Starfleet file appears on the terminals, then switches over to the security footage.

 

“He went AWOL four days ago. This is our first sighting: we don't know where he has been, who he has seen or why he has just declared a one-man war against Starfleet, but, frankly, I'm not interested in whatever excuse he thinks he has. Under no circumstances are we to allow this man to escape Federation space. You here tonight represent the senior command of all the vessels in the region and in the name of those we lost you will run this bastard down. This is a manhunt pure and simple, so let's get to work.” 

 

Jim frowns, concentrating on one of the last frames: Harrison is stealing a jumpship – weird that he didn't plan his escape better, was he thinking of going suicide bomber? Why change his mind, then?

Wait, it doesn't look like he's  _getting_ into the ship yet, more like he's putting  _something_ in it... 

 

Jim quickly moves to a different angle and zooms in.

It's a black bag. It doesn't look particularly heavy, from the way the cloth is hanging it can't be more than half-full...

 

“What's in the bag?” he whispers. 

 

“Not now, Jim,” Pike angrily whispers back, throwing him a _look._

 

But it's too late, Jim is on a roll. “Isn't it odd that he'd target an archive?” He insists. “It's like bombing a library.”

 

Pike looks determined to shut him down, but Marcus beats him to it: “Chris? Everything okay there?”

 

“Yes, sir. Mr. Kirk is just... acclimating to his new position as First Officer.” 

 

Jim grits his teeth. Pike is right, he'll have to learn how to keep his goddamned mouth shut no matter what. If only he could stop his brain just as easily....

 

“You got something to say, Kirk, say it. Tomorrow's too late.” 

 

“I'm fine, sir. My apologies.” 

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Spock throws him a surprised glance. Just how stupid does he think he is? He knows he's on thin ice already, thank you fucking much.

 

“Spit it out, son. Don't be shy.” 

 

Well, since he's asking so nicely... Jim unconsciously straightens his back. “Why the archive?” Of all the questions in his mind, this is the one that bothers him most. “All that information is public record. If he really wanted to damage Starfleet, this could be just the beginning.”

 

“The beginning of _what_ , Mr. Kirk?”

 

Admiral Marcus' flag officer shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

 

Jim isn't sure, but he has a very bad feeling about this. _One-man war against Starfleet. If I were him, what would I do?_

 

“Sir,” he begins, an idea taking shape in his mind. “In the event of an attack, protocol mandates that command gathers Captains and First Officers at Starfleet H.Q., right here... in this room.” 

 

He looks up from the screen and that's when he sees it, right in front of him.  _The windows!_

London is only 45 minutes away in a jumpship. Nobody would expect a direct attack on Starfleet H.Q., especially from that side, the windows would hold against a phaser, but a plasma rifle would be enough and if he's got something bigger than that in that bag...

Jim pushes his chair back and stands, quickly moving around the table.

 

“Mr. Kirk!”

 

“Jim, what are you....” 

 

He's about to reply when he hears a loud tearing sound, like a thunder. The floor suddenly lurches beneanth his feet and he's on the ground – how did he get there, he must get up now but he can't get up, feels like a giant hand crushing him down and it hurts, his whole body hurts, small hard things raining down on him...

Everything goes black.

 

*****

 

When he opens his eyes again, Spock is beding over him, his face half in shadow and half bathed by white emergency lights, green blood dripping down on his uniform.

There's a ragged hole where the ceiling used to be, a strange smell in the air – blood and dust and the faintest residue of C X6 .

 

Spock's lips are moving, yet there's no sound, only a sort of high-pitched whistle.

 

“What?” Jim asks, or thinks he does. “What happened?” 

Spock frowns and tries to speak again.

“What?” 

 

For a second, Spock looks conflicted, then the impossible happens: he reaches out and grabs Jim's hand.

_Apologies/Daystrom/Explosion/Deafness temporary/Probably/Emergency teams responding/Other injuries?_

 

“Harrison...” 

 

_Remain still/Other injuries?_

 

“ J'st banged up...You?” 

 

_Adequate_ / _Functional_ / _Please do not move_

 

But Jim pushes his hand away, dragging himself up even as every muscle in his body screams. “Pike... how's Pike?”

 

He can't even see the table anymore, just bodies and debris everywhere and perhaps he got out, perhaps he's okay... That's when he sees the figure half-buried under the ruins of the ceiling.

 

“No...”

 

Pike's eyes are open, staring at him, and he's still breathing, he _must_ be still breathing, they gotta get him out of here... Jim starts pushing and pulling through the rubble, but it's too much, too heavy and this can't be happening, Chris can't die in a fucking conference room but the fucking things just. won't.move.

 

Spock grabs his hands, tries to push him back. _Stop/Hurting yourself/Injured..._

 

He flails and struggles and screams, but Spock won't let go, just radiating  _concern/sorrow/guilt/grief._

 

Jim sinks to his knees, half-crawling over the ruined floor, tries to keep his touch light not to hurt Chris.

Nothing, nothing, how can it be nothing... He carefully lays his head on Chris' chest, hoping to feel a heartbeat, a movement...

 

No pulse. No breath. Chris is gone.

 

Jim curls up on his side, a dog next to his master's body. They used to call him Pike's puppy, after all.

Tears stream down his face, fall on on Chris' stained uniform and he doesn't even try to dry them. He doesn't care who sees him. He gets it now, why primitive cultures rip their hair out and scratch their face bloody.

 

Spock gingerly places a hand on his shoulder. _Come away/Nothing you can do/Please Captain/Please Jim_

 

That's what gets him, his name and the fact that Spock is asking when he could just haul him up and drag him away. Slowly, reluctactly, he pushes himself up, bracing his hands on the floor and avoiding the debris covering Chris as though his weight could be felt.

 

As soon as he's back upright, his head starts spinning again and dark spots swarm over his vision, nearly swallowing everything.

He feels Spock grab him again, effortlessly holding him up and half-carrying him out of that damned room.

Somehow, he ends up on a stretcher. Spock's hand lingers for a moment on his own, trying to transmit  _comfort/safety/calm_ , but he can't, Jim can still feel the underlying  _grief/sorrow/worry/fear_ and it's just too much. 

 

His last thought before losing consciousness is for John Harrison. That bastard will  _pay._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: description of a terrorist attack, explosions


	4. Jim

Starfleet Medical is a mess.

Jim isn't sure how long he was out, or how much time he spends lying on the stretcher, waiting for somebody to fix his damn ears so he can get back to his ship.

He's almost tempted to call Bones, except he'd take one look at him and use his damn medical override, keeping him here for who knows how long.

 

Jim knows he's low-priority, but with every second he spends here, Harrison's trail grows colder.

At some point, Yeoman Rand shows up with red-rimmed eyes and a new PADD: he's in charge of the Enterprise again, although only  _ad interim_ .

A few hours ago, Jim would have said that nothing would have made him happier, now he only wants to hurl his PADD at the wall and throw up.

 

He ends up doing neither, staring instead at the signature at the bottom of his reinstalment order: Admiral Alexander Marcus.

He must have hit his head as well, unless... Jim thinks back to the conference room, the casual way he addressed Pike and before that, how Pike managed to convince him to give him a second chance.

They would have known each, of course, but were they actually friends?

 

He can't imagine it, but then again, if anybody could have done it, that would have been Pike. For a moment, he wonders how that would happen: it must have been a good story. He'll never get to ask him, now...

 

Jim's eyes fill with tears again, but this time he refuses to cry. Crying won't make him feel better. Eviscerating Harrison might.

 

He grabs the call button and stabs it viciously, determined to get out of here as soon as possible.

 

*****

 

Of course, as soon as possible still turns out to be several hours later: by the time Jim signs himself out against medical advice, it's dawn.

Spock, who has been hovering nearby all this time, appears by his side as he's crossing the lobby.

“ Captain, it is extremely unwise to leave the hospital in your....”

 

“I'm fine,” Jim interrupts him. “Shouldn't you be with Abbot?”

 

“Captain Abbot was hit by a shard and is currently kept in a medically-induced coma. He is expected to make a full recovery, although the doctors are unable to indicate a precise timeline. As I am not familiar with the _Bradbury_ and its crew, I asked to be reassigned to the _Enterprise_. My application is still being processed: I believe you'll receive it in approximately 1.2 hours.” 

 

In other words, better the devil you know. Spock doesn't ask him whether he'll consider his application or erase it without even opening it.

Truth to be told, Jim himself doesn't know what he'll do. In 1.2 hours, he'll find out.

 

“May I enquire about our destination, Captain?” 

 

“Starfleet Command.”

 

Spock raises an eyebrow at him, but follows.

 

They have barely set foot in the main square when Jim sees a familiar figure in Engineering red, gesticulating wildly as he argues with two security officers loaded with plastic boxes.

 

“What's going on, Scotty?” 

 

“Captain! And Commander!” Scotty swings around. His face almost matches his uniform. “Can you explain to these two tossers here...” 

 

“I told you, you haven't got the clearance to...”

 

“Clearance my ass, I _invented_ the damn thing!”

 

“Commander Scott, that sort of language is not-” Spock starts, but Jim cuts him off. 

 

“Save the finishing school for later. Anybody cares to answer my question?” he asks, glaring at the other officers. “Well? For starters, who are you and what's that stuff?” 

 

“Sir...” one of the officers – a Lieutenant – starts. 

 

“Don't even think about pulling clearance on me. So?”

 

“Lieutenants Danchev and Halloran from Starfleet Investigations, sir,” the other officer speaks up. “John Harrison attacked a supply deposit in Greenland. Security personnel returned fire and his jumpship was damaged: it crashed a few miles from the outpost, but he evaded capture again. These are parts recovered from the wreck for the Investigative Laboratories.”

 

Jim frowns.  _A supply deposit? What sort of game is Harrison playing?_

 

“Your Investigative Laboratories won't find shit! You had the transwarp beaming device with scrap metal!” Scotty growls. “Look, hand it over to to somebody who actually know what's what!” 

 

Halloran shifts nervously from footh to footh. “Our orders...”

 

“Are being countermanded by a superior officer. Mr. Scott will take custody of your evidence and forward it to your laboratories after examining it.”

 

“Sir, protocol is...” Lt. Danchev protests timidly. 

 

“Captain, perhaps...” Spock tries again. 

 

“I take full responsibility for this.” Jim's voice brokes no arguments. “Proceed, Lieutenant.”

 

“Yes, sir.” 

 

The device finally changes hands and the other officers walk away. Jim lets out a slow breath. “Please tell me you can find where that bastard went, or we're all screwed.”

 

“Give me half an hour, Captain.” 

 

“Make it twenty minutes.” 

 

They end up hijacking an empty lab, with Scott tryping franctically while he paces back and forth. Spock stands guard by the door, still as a statue – if there were statues carved in parade rest.

It's a little creepy, actually, considering the restless, angry energy pervading every corner of Starfleet.

 

Finally, Scotty lets out a shout of triumph. “Got it! That's where he...went.”

 

“Great, show me,” Jim strides up to the table, snatching the PADD from his hand and avidly looking at the numbers. 

 

“You're not going to like this, Captain.” He hesitates, swallowing hard. “He went to the only place in the galaxy where we can't follow him.”

 

It takes him a couple of seconds to place the coordinates – and even then, he re-reads them twice to make sure.

 

Qo'noS

 

“Fuck!” 

 

“You can say that again, sir,” Scotty says miserably. 

 

Jim pushes the PADD back at him. “Thanks, Scotty. Go back to the Enterprise and get some rest, we'll need you later.”

 

“Yes, sir. Captain, Commander.” He salutes and walks away. 

 

Jim turns on his heel and strides out of the lab. He can feel Spock frowning at his back, but he really hasn't got time for that.

Harrison may think he's beyond their reach, but Jim still has one ace up his sleeve – the most improbable of all.

 

*****

 

This will not go down in history as one of his best plans.

At the very back of his mind, he knows exactly what Pike would say: that he's being reckless, stupid even.

Well, too fucking bad: Pike isn't here to stop him, now, is he?

 

As soon as he steps foot in his office, Spock at his heels, Admiral Marcus stats comm'ing Security. Time for some fast talking.

 

“Sir, he's not on Earth” 

 

Admiral Marcus cuts the comm and looks up at them, astonished. “What?”

 

“He's on Kronos, sir.” The name alone is enough, he can see it, but he isn't done yet. “I request my command be reinstated and permission to go after him.” 

 

There it is, all out. It's up to Admiral Marcus now. If he says no...

 

But he doesn't, nor does he have them thrown out of the office: instead, he dismisses the other officers.

 

“Is Harrison defecting?”

 

“We...are not sure, sir.”

 

“He has taken refuge in the Ketha province,” Spock speaks up. “A region unhinabited for decades.” 

 

“He's got to be hiding there, sir!” Jim interrupts, almost talking over him. “He knows if we even go near Klingon space, it will be all out war. Starfleet can't go after him,” Here it comes then, the moment of truth. “But I can. Please, sir.” 

 

Like he said, not one of his best plans.

 

Marcus doesn't answer immediately, almost considering his words – that's got to be a good sign, right.

 

“All-out war with the Klingon is inevitable, Mr. Kirk. If you ask me, it's already begun,” he says, moving further into his office. “Since we first learned of their existance, the Klingon empire has conquered and occupied two planets that we know of and fired on our ships half a dozen times. They are coming our way.” 

 

The Admiral pauses again, his eyes studying carefully both of them. Jim feels the urge to stand up straighter.

 

“At the emergency meeting, you were the only one to wonder why London. The archive was a cover for a top secret branch of Starfleet, designated Section 31. They were developing defence technology and training our officers to gather intelligence on the Klingons and any other potential enemy who means to do us harm. Harrison was one of our top agents.”

 

There's a note of regret in his voice. “Well, now he's a fugitive and I want to take him out.”

 

Admiral Marcus looks at him again. “Pike always said you were one of our best and brightest. You should have heard him defend you.”

 

It's Jim who has to look away, now, and stand absolutely still lest he does something  _really_ stupid like smash one of the Admiral's model ships or snap at him to stop talking. He can't hear this, not now, he feels like he'll shatter in a million pieces if he does. 

 

“He was the one who talked you into joining Starfleet, wasn't he?”

 

“Yes, sir,” Jim manages to whisper. 

 

“Did he ever tell you who talked him into joining?” He asks almost gently. 

 

Oh. So that was why.

 

“His death is on me...and yours can't be.” 

 

Jim's back stiffens. “Sir, please. All I...”

 

The Admiral interrupts him. “Mr. Spock, you said the province where Harrison's hiding was unhinabited?”

 

“Affirmative, sir.” 

 

Just like that, Jim's back to hoping against all hope.

 

“As part of our defensive strategy, 31 was developing a new photon torpedo, long range and untraceable. It would be invisible to Klingon sensors.” He presses a couple of buttons and a 3D hologram shimmers in front of them. 

 

Jim may not be a weapon expert, but he knows great workmanship when he sees it: if this is what Section 31 was capable of, its loss is even greater than he imagined.

 

“Most of them were in London, but we still a few of the earlier models.” Marcus' steady gaze meets his. “I don't want you hurt but I want to take him out. You park on the edge of the neutral zone, lock onto Harrison's position, fire, kill him and haul ass.” 

 

Jim feels like he can breathe again. There's only one more thing left to do – really, there was only one possible answer to that question.

“Permission to reinstate Mr. Spock as my First Officer.” 

 

“Granted. I'll have the torpedoes redirected to the Enterprise.” 

 

“Thank you, sir. We won't let you down.” 

 

At those words, the Admiral almost smiles. “I know you won't, Captain.”

 

As the leave Starfleet Headquarters, Jim feels calmer than he has in.... well, just hours, but they felt like centuries.

Nothing can stop him now, not Spock's doubts or Bones' fretting.

 

Then Scotty resigns, or rather he accepts Scotty's resignations over the bloody torpedoes – he didn't mean to, but the words slipped out and he can't take them back, not now, and Scotty just hands over his PADD and walks away, immediately followed by Keenser.

 

He has fucked up, badly, but he can't stop, not while Harrison is still out there.

Still, he can't have  _irremedially_ fucked up, right? There's got to be a way to fix things with Scotty... He just can't think of anything right now. 

 

But that's... fine. That's normal, he's got a mission to think about, he can't let this distract him. He's got a terrorist to destroy.

 

He'll fix it when they get back, nothing else matters now...

 

“All right, let's ride.” 

 

Yet Scotty's words still haunt him.

 

 


	5. Khan

For an alien planet, Qo'nos looks pretty familiar, or at least this particular province does: all empty streets and gutted buildings, the cold wind howling as it blows through them.

Earth cities used to look like this, too, during the war. It wasn't for the way the air smells, he could almost think he never left at all.

(Except if he were still in the war, he would not be alone...)

 

The communications between Marcus and Graham he intercepted are too corrupted to distinguish more than the name of this province, but if he were in their place, this is were Khan would hide them: in the ruins of a middle-sized city, the kind that was often overlooked even when it was still inhabited.

Hopefully, Graham's lackeys will have left some trace of their passage: they would have been in a hurry, worried about discovery... Optimal conditions for a mistake.

There's no time to waste. Hopefully, the scanner he built will work, will help him find them faster.

 

*****

 

He has to stop for the first time after a mere 8 hours. He hasn't shown so little resistance since he was a child.

For a moment, Khan wishes West wasn't alredy dead, just so he could have the pleasure of crushing his skull between his hands.

 

He takes another sip of water from his canteen, then reaches for the PADD with his stolen information, quickly scanning through Section 31's earlier reports until he finds what he's looking for: a detailed list of the  _Botany Bay_ 's contents, with the 12 broken cryotubes listed separatedly. 

After a year and a half, he'll finally know who he has lost. He won't have to wonder anymore.

 

Thankfully, whoever had written the report had used the original number painted on each tube – Zita's idea, in case they got mixed up during the journey. Perhaps he'll be able to thank her for it...

 

He thought he was prepared, but the first name still hits him like a kick to the stomach.

Cryotube n° 007 – that's Joel, oh fuck, how is it possible, Joel was one of the youngest, he had the best chances to survive this, what the fuck happened?

 

N° 095, Nina.

 

N° 215, Leon.

 

And then there's Manlio, Leandro and Xavier, Orinda, Abhay and... N°787, that's Viola, oh fuck, he'll have to tell Fiammetta, how the fuck is he going to tell her?

 

N°788. He won't have to tell Fiammetta.

 

Thekla will say she already knew, optimistical believer that she is, but no, Thekla isn't going to tell him anything at all because she's here, too, and so is Paul.

So much for believing in God, but they should have a Catholic funeral, that's what they would have wanted... Where on Earth is he going to find them a Catholic priest? Does Catholicism even exist anymore?

 

Why is he even worrying about it, it's not like they've got anything left to bury: they were probably burnt with the rest of laboratory waste once Section 31 was done with them. Some things never change, not even after 300 years.

 

Khan blinks hard and keeps staring at the list. He should not linger, but every number is a name, a face and every face is carries a thousand memories.

His chest hurts as though he had been shot, as if there was a titanium band wrapped around his lungs.

 

Finally, he finds the strenght to put down the PADD beside him and curls up in a ball, pressing his face against his knees.

 

He can't lay this at Marcus' door, no matter how much he'd like to. For once he didn't lie: they really _were_ gone when they found the ship.  Which means it must have been him: a mistake he made, a detail he overlooked...

He killed 12 of his people. He's never going to see them again.

 

Section 31 was thorough: somewhere in this PADD there must be an explaination, an account of what went wrong, of how exactly they died... Khan clenches his fists not to reach for it.

 

He can't. He hasn't got time to read more, it already took him longer than it should have. He's got to get moving, least he ends up killing them all.

When he takes up the PADD again, it's to slip it back in his pack.

 

He stands up cautiously, mechanically gathering his supplies. At least now he knows. He's got to think about the others, the ones who are still alive: Joaquim, Malik, Otto, Kati, Leilani, Rajesh... He can't let them down, too.

 

It's really like being back in the war: a pack on his back and a gun in his hand... of course, back in his days guns weren't quite so big - just wait until Jani sees it.

Khan slips out of his temporary shelter, determined not to stop until he has found them.

 


	6. Khan

 

He doesn't keep his own promise: only 5 hours later, he's got to stop again, get some sleep before he falls flat on his face and gets discovered.

Part of him is terrified he will not wake up again – but he does, 2 hours later than he had planned.

 

He eats the barest minimum, conserving his rations for the others, and all the while studies the case of Beta-24: there's only one vial left.

By now it will be nothing more than a palliative: it will give him a short reprive, and then the battle to delay the inevitable will be all up to his own body. Better save the Beta-24 as long as he can, in case he meets a Klingon patrol or needs more time.

 

*****

 

He can't find them.The scanner remains silent and he can't see any traces of Starfleet, nothing.

He keeps searching.

 

*****

 

The next time he stops, he grabs a PADD again – his own, this time, not the one he stole – and records a message.

He has been putting it off for far too long, but he was hoping he wouldn't need it... It's really not enough for all he's got to tell them, but it will do.

 

*****

 

Perhaps he was wrong, perhaps he has been searching in the wrong place and they are in a different city altogether.

 Perhaps he made another mistake and they aren't here at all, it's just a trap. Perhaps he just condemned them all...

 

Khan keeps walking, keeps scanning and checking buildings over and over.

 

It's true that Marcus wouldn't have wanted them destroyed, but Graham is a whole different matter, he had always been terrified of being found out.

 They've got to be here, somewhere....

 

Then Starfleet shows up. Looks like Marcus and Graham didn't want to wait for the virus to finish him after all – perhaps it's a good sign, they wouldn't get so worried if he wasn't getting too close, would they?

Gotta hurry now, he'll be damned if he lets those “highly trained officers” catch him, but they are an obstacle and he hasn't got time to waste now.

He keeps scanning, listening with half an ear in case Captain Sulu actually says something important.

He doesn't expect him to.

 

“....the entire payload of advanced long-range torpedoes currently locked onto...”

 

Khan almost drops the scanner.

 

It can't be. It's a trap, it's got to be – killing him with the weapon he designed to save his crew is just the nasty kind of joke Marcus would enjoy, but he would have taken the cryotubes out first.

Except that would mean half dismantling the torpedoes, Marcus wouldn't do it any other way: he wouldn't risk losing his _test subjects_....

 It must be a lie, then, there's no way they've got his torpedoes up there: there simply wasn't time for a thorough job.

But for a less thorough one – say, just ten or twenty...

 

Unless this was Graham's plan: after all, the references to Kronos were all in his mail. He may want the war, but Marcus' “new old weapons” program has always worried him, this would be the perfect chance to cripple the Klingons and destroy all evidence.

 

So, which one is it going to be? Marcus or Graham?

 

For some reason, Starfleet seems to think they can take him alive, so perhaps it was neither of them, they know better – but why the torpedoes, then?

 

He needs more information. Luckily for him, the Captain kindly provided him with a source right on the planet: no matter how low on the food chain, they're bound to know whether they actually _have_ torpedoes on board.

 

Khan pockets the scanner and starts running.

 

He can't tell spaceships apart from the sound of their engines like he used to do with airplanes and cars, and he doesn't speak Klingon, but from the sound of it, Sulu's “highly trained officers” just got caught.

 

He takes position on higher ground just as the Starfleet woman emerges from the unmarked shuttle, watches her walk unflinchingly toward the group of aliens.

However this goes – and his money is on “badly” – he'll have to go through the Klingons to get to her or her companions.

 

Without looking away from them, Khan grabs the medical case again. His hands don't tremble as he snaps it open and injects himself with the Beta-24.

 If he has to surrender, they won't let him keep it anyway, and even if they aren't Marcus or Graham's lackeys, he's certainly not going to let them know his real conditions.

 

Whatever Starfleet Lady told them, the Klingon leader is not impressed and her companions can't take the shot from the shuttle without going through her. They probably wouldn't risk it even in his place: too far, target too close to his hostage...

 

Khan takes a deep breath and takes aim. His shot is precise to the millimeter.

At the same time, the rest of Starfleet comes out shooting – great, now he'll have to protect all of them, they couldn't just sit tight and let him handle this, could they?

 

He grits his teeth and keeps shooting, keeps fighting while keeping an eye on all 5 of them.

He will never admit it, but it feels good to finally have a physical confrontation, an enemy he can shoot and kick and stab. He'd much rather do this to Marcus or Graham, but Klingons will do. For now.

 

*****

 

72 torpedoes.

 They're here, they're all here, they're alive – so close now, he's got to get on that ship and there's only one way to do so quickly, without risking them.

 

“I surrender.”

 

He expects Vulcan will handcuff him now, or stun him, instead Blondie stands up, shaking off Lady's hand and looks at him in the eye. Not a junior officer, then.

 

“On behalf of my friend Christopher Pike, I accept your surrender.”

 

Then he punches him in the face, putting all his strenght behind the blow. Khan can barely feel it at all, but cold dread settles in his stomach – is he Section 31? Has he walked right into a trap after all?

 

Blondie keeps punching him, over and over, getting more and more enraged when none of his blows seem to affect him. Khan forces himself to remain still under the assault: his old instincts, awakened by the short battle, are screaming at him to react, eliminate the threat, he doesn't have to take this anymore... but he does, he'll doom them all if he snaps Blondie's neck.

 

He's lucky Blondie is too furious to properly focus, has too many tells to count. A mere Human shouldn't be able to hurt him, no matter how...compromised he is, yet he finds himself subtly riding the blows: he can't know how far the virus went, some of his internal organs might already be affected – Blondie doesn't seem to know that, but who knows about the others? Or who else might be watching on the _Enterprise_?

He won't reveal any weakness.

 

Lady shouts for the Captain – no, _at_ the Captain, calling him off, could this possibly mean...?

 

Blondie stops, panting, his eyes still burning with rage.

 

“Captain...” Khan finds himself staring at him, his mind racing.

 

Captain of the _Enterprise._ James T. Kirk.

 

Well. The good news is, he definitely isn't with Section 31. He heard Marcus talk about him once: he'd called him a liability, out of control, a mad dog that ought to be put down.

Dog. There had been something else about dogs... Pike's puppy, that's what he had called him.

Presumably the same Christopher Pike whose friendship Captain Kirk has just proudly proclaimed, but what does he have to do with all this?

 

One thing is certain: the torpedoes were supposed to be fired at him, and Captain Kirk _didn't do it._ Instead, he came down here to capture him – to arrest him.

If he were so inclined, Khan might call it a miracle.

 

Still, they aren't safe yet: once they get back on board, Kirk will have Starfleet notified of his arrest and Marcus and Graham will know they're all still alive. Graham will definitely lose is nerve and run, but Marcus... Marcus will see this through the end. He will have another plan – several plans, in fact, perhaps some already in action.

 

His first idea to knock the Enterprise crew out and steal the ship is clearly unfeasible and he doesn't know how much time he has left.

As much as he hates the thought, he'll have to throw his family at Captain Kirk's mercy, provided he has any.

The question is, how much can he tell him? And will Kirk even believe him?

 


	7. Khan

He ends up in Starfeel basic blacks – a concession to his supposed rank and years of service, he supposes: everything else he was wearing or carrying is sealed away as evidence.

 

Perhaps he should have abandoned the PADDs as well: he used his original denomination as password, but it's far from uncrackable and there's just too much in them...

Still, the Security Officers looked very nervous, as if they didn't know whether they had sufficent clearance to touch them. It's a good sign.

Hopefully, he'll get them back before anybody watches them.

 

According to regulations, Captain Kirk will inform Starfleet of his capture: Marcus and Graham will be monitoring – if not downright intercepting – their communications, they'll know they are all still alive.

Graham will lose his nerve, drop everything and run, but not Marcus, he'll have a backup plan.

 

Or rather, another backup plan: the  _Enterprise_ should have jumped to warp the moment they returned on board, instead he can't even feel the vibrations of impulse drive. If they had fired on Kronos, they would have been slaughtered by the Klingons faster than you can say  _casus belli._

So, Marcus finally decided to start the war. Why sacrifice his secret weapons, though?

Perhaps Graham went behind his back. It would be just like him.

 

If Marcus didn't actually approve the slaughter of his people... he'll be furious, of course. He won't trust one of his underlings again, he'll come to rectify this mess personally – which means the  _Vengeance._

If he can get on board and beam the torpedoes over...

 

The door across the room slides open, interrupting his reflections: a dark-haired man in Medical blues strides in, carrying a medical tricorder and several other pieces of medical equipment.

Khan can see recognize the syringes even at this distance.  His shoulders stiffen, and he unconsciously sits up even straighter.

 

The doctor – CMO, according to his stripes, stops in front of the transparent wall of his cell, scowling at him. “Dr. M'Benga tells me you are refusing medical assistance.”

 

“Correct.”

 

“Why?” 

 

Khan ignores the question. “The preliminary scan showed I am neither wounded nor sick,” Not yet, anyway. “Any other exhamination you order will be classified as non-necessary and I have the right to refuse it.”

 

The doctor glares. “Even after that little stunt you pulled planetside?”

 

Khan glares right back. “I have my rights.”

 

The doctor keeps quiet for a couple of seconds, then steps closer to the screen. “Look, Commander, I'm not accusing you of anything, but we both know that no human could have faced a bunch of Klingons on his own and won. If you were experimented on against your will...”

 

He has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. It's too bad he won't be able to share this conversation with the others, it's just too funny – 300 years gone and  _now_ sombody asks! 

Though perhaps they won't find it funny, not after they've  _seen._ ...

 

The door opens again, this time admitting Captain Kirk and First Officer...Spack? No, Spock.

 

“How is it going, Bones?”

 

“The prisoner has refused to submit to further medical testing.” 

 

Unexpectedly, Kirk doesn't ask his CMO if he can do them anyway. “So we got nothing?”

 

“I didn't say that.” He turns to look at him. “We still need a DNA sample to confirm your identification.” 

 

Just a cheek swab, then: they'll still be able to see he's not a regular human, but his blood's properties will remain hidden.

He can allow that.

 

“Step closer to the hole and open your mouth.” 

 

“Are you sure it's wise, Doctor?” The Vulcan interjects. 

 

…Just who do they think he is, Hannibal Lecter?

 

He has been through too many dubious medical practices in his life not to be completely uneffected, even by something as simple as a cheek swab. He'll be damned if he shows it, though.

 

It's done in a handful of seconds. The doctor doesn't even make it as rough as he could – another unexpected surprise.

 

“We good?” The Captain asks. 

 

He thought they had come to interrogate him, but now Kirk looks ready to leave and he can't let it happen: every wasted second brings Marcus closer.

He thought he'd have more time to gather further data on Kirk, to decide what to say... There's no choice, he'll have to try anyway.

He meets Kirk's eyes through the glass. Here goes nothing.

 

“Why aren't we moving, Captain?” 

 

At first, Kirk seems determined to ignore him, the only words he says directed to his CMO and his First Officer.

 

“You'll get everyone on this ship killed.”

 

That finally attracts his attention: he comes storming back, eyes blazing, still too angry too listen, but that's okay. Khan can work with anger.

 

He gives him the  _Vengeance_ , or rather the coordinates to its base near Jupiter, but Kirk is still not convincend.

 

“Give me one reason why I should listen to you!” 

 

“I can give you 72.” 

 

All the reasons he could ever need: his own crew, his very life.

 

As Kirk flounces away, Khan sits back on the bench, subtly leaning his back against the wall so the Security Officers won't notice.

 

It's done. Kirk may walk away now, but the seeds of doubt have been planted: he won't be able to resist them.

 

He hasn't lied, he does believe that Kirk, unlike Marcus and Graham, has a conscience, but it's still a leap of faith, the greatest he ever made.

Still, needs must: the torpedoes have done their part, but leaving his crew there isn't safe anymore, especially considering they'll come under fire sooner rather than later.

Perhaps, once they know what's inside them, they'll let him get the tubes out: not all of them, of course, but there would be time for a couple of them. If he can get close enough, punching in the awakening code would be just a matter of seconds...

 

He can only hope he made the right call: Kirk seems to have taken his actions personally. It can't be just because the archive was named after his father's ship, there must be more than that... And what does Admiral Pike have to do with it?

 

Is it possible that he – or somebody he held dear – was caught in the explosion? It seems extremely unlikely: on the one hand, even though Pike regained the use of his legs, he would hardly be fit for field investigations; on the other, neither Marcus nor Graham would have risked bringing in somebody associated with him.

What is the connection, then?

 


	8. Jim

He shouldn't have spoken with Harrison, he shouldn't have listened to a word that murdering bastard said... it's probably all lies anyway.

But what if they aren't? What if there's really something out there? And Scotty's doubts about the torpedoes...what could possibly be in there?

Fuck. He won't get any rest until he finds out now, will he? Damn his curiosity. Damn his stupid brain that won't just let stuff go, damn them both to Hell.

 

Well, he can't just pop the torpedoes open in the middle of the cargo bay, now, can he? Jupiter may be light years away now, but there's somebody much closer...

 

Jim flips his comm open and calls Scotty's personal number. Here's to hoping he doesn't hang up.

 

 

*****

 

Scotty doesn't hang up on him. Spock finds him a weapon specialist who is,  _incidentally_ , Admiral Marcus' daughter and Bones'd better stop flirting with her right now because if Marcus gets his hands on these comm transcripts, capture by Klingons will look like a pleasant alternative. 

Then the torpedo arms itself, trapping Bones, and of course he keeps yelling at them to beam out the only person who could possibly help him.

Dr. Marcus yells back to let her do her job, and Kirk has no doubt over which one of them he'll listen to – losing an Admiral's daughter may be a disaster for his carreer, but honestly? Jim doesn't give a fuck, not when Bones' life is on the balance.

 

The silence is the worst part: the torpedo didn't go off, they  _know_ that, yet nobody's answering him and he can feel the Captain's mask slipping, crumbling before the man's terror. 

 

“Jim? You gotta see this...” Bones' voice, God, it's the most beautiful sound he's ever heard.

 

“Are you okay?” 

 

“Yes, we're fine. Jim, there's a man in this torpedo.” 

 

...That can't be right.

 

“A corpse?” 

 

“No, sir. He seems to be held in cryogenic stasis,” Carol says.

 

“We must get back him to the ship,” Bones cuts in. “I'm going to need all of the Med Bay for this, and I'm not even sure it will be enough!” 

 

“Are you sure you can move that?”

 

“Positive, Captain.” Carol says. 

 

“All right. I'll meet in in sickbay. Keep the channel open until you're back, I don't want any more surprises.” 

 

“Yeah, yeah, fine. McCoy, out.” 

 

Slowly, as if he was moving in high gravity, Jim stumbles back to his chair, collapsing on it rather than sitting.

He almost fired that torpedo. Fuck, he almost fired  _all_ of them and Harrison said he could give him 72 reasons... Are there people in all of them?! How is that even  _possible_ ? What the fuck is going on?

 

He doesn't even know how long he sits there, waiting and fighting waves of nausea: the last thing they need right now is their Captain being sick on the bridge, like a Cadet on his first launch.

Finally, Lt. Davis announces that the shuttle has docked back into their cargo bay and the doctors are on their way. Spock insists on accompanying him. Jim can only nod his acquiescence, leaving Sulu in command again.

 

When he reaches Sickbay and glimpses the face under the glass, he almost loses his battle: up until now, he hadn't believed it, not really. May Bones forgive him for doubting him, but a man inside a torpedo...

“ How on Earth did he end up in there?!”

 

It's more a curse than a question, but Carol answers anyway, talking exicitedly about fuel containers and redesigning. Jim is only half-listening, he can't stop staring at the cryotube and its occupant.

 

“Are you sure he's alive?” 

 

“Alive and well, all things considered.” Bones says. “Don't even think about waking him up, though: reviving him without the proper sequencing could kill him. It could take hours, even days to find it and I just wouldn't know where to start.”

 

_And being blown to bits wouldn't?!_ Jim has to bite his lips not to voice his thoughts, his hands clenching by his side.  _I almost killed a man – more than one, probably – and I didn't even know it. I was almost a murderer, just like_ _**him** _ _..._

 

“...seen one like this in a museum, once.” Bones is saying. “Our friend here must be at least 300 years old.” 

 

Spock is frowning. “Surely they couldn't have lasted for so long. Are you sure they are of Terran origins? Another pre-warp civilization might have stumbled on the same method.”

 

“Absolutely sure, Commander.” Carol again. “Look, some of the components have factory marks, all Terrans, all from the late 20th century. There's no doubt.” 

 

“Would it be possible to identify the ship on which they were transported?” 

 

Bones huffs. “If you had bothered to study human history, you'd remember that the late 20 th century wasn't exactly a good moment for record-keeping! First the space race, the Cold War and the minor conflicts it sparked, then the Eugenics Wars...” 

 

“Then why would Harrison be so interested in this cryotube?” Spock replies. 

 

“I have an idea,” They all turn to look at Jim, as if they had forgotten he was there. “How about we ask him?” 

 

Bones frowns again. “Jim, are you all r-”

 

“I'm fine,” he cuts him off. “With me, Commander.” 

 

As they step into the Turbolift, Spock says: “I don't like this, Captain.”

 

“Yeah? Neither do I,” Jim mutters back. 

 

*******

 

Harrison stands and walks toward the glass as they rush in, ignoring the Security Officers' startled salute.

The bastard was probably expecting them, he knew what they'd find...

 

“Why is there a man in that torpedo?” It's a growl more than a question, and if Harrison doesn't answer, so help him...

 

“There are men and women in all those torpedoes, Captain.” 

 

For a moment, the world seems to skid to a stop, all sounds drowned out by his hammering heart.

_Kirk the Executioner, I was almost Kirk the Executioner, I was almost_ _**him** _ _ , I'd be him if it wasn't for Spock and Scotty, oh God, what have I done...  _

 

He barely catches Harrison's next words, admitting he put them there himself and why the Hell would he  _do_ that?

 

Jim looks up, meeting Spock's worried gaze.  _Fuck, I must be projecting, I hope he didn't feel too much... Calm the Hell down, Jim. You're a fucking Starfleet Captain, get a grip on yourself. No panic attacks on duty, your ship_ _**needs** _ _you._

 

Spock is by his side, closer than they have ever been, staring Harrison down. “Who are you? What is your relation to those people?”

 

For a moment, Harrison says nothing. When he speaks again, his voice sounds...different. Softer. 

“ They are my crew. As for who we are...” he hesitates. “We are remnants of a time long past. We were to be the ultimate weapons, genetically engineered to be superior to bring peace in a world at war, whether we wanted or not. When we tried to gain our freedom, we were defeated and condemned as criminals, forced into exile. For centuries we slept, hoping that when we awoke, things would be different.”

 

_So Bones' mention of the Eugenics Wars was closer to the mark than we thought... God! Seventy-two people!_

 

“As a result of the destruction of Vulcan, your Starfleet began to aggressively search distant quadrant of space. My ship was found adrift, I alone was revived.” 

 

Jim wants to ask why, what on Earth made him think torpedoes were a good hiding place, and the bombs, how did he place them, if he wanted only Marcus why did he have to kill Chris...

The words won't come. It's too much all at once, not even a Vulcan mind-meld would help sort through all this.

 

“That is your explaination as to why there is no mention of John Harrison in any database until a year ago?” Spock, bless him, Spock takes over without even glancing at him, not a hint that he's covering his back.

 

That finally gets a reaction: Harrison glares at them, practically vibrating with anger.

“ _John Harrison_ ,” he snarls. “Was a fiction created after I was awoken by your Admiral Marcus, to help him advance his cause. A smokescreen to conceal my true identity. My name is  _Khan._ ”

 

Any regular agent would not care so much about random people from an old, lost ship. It all makes sense. Most of it does, except...

“Why would a Starfleet Admiral ask a 300-year-old frozen man for help?” Jim asks, finally finding his voice.

 

“Because I am better,” he says, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. God, it makes Jim want to punch him again. 

 

“At what?” 

 

“Everything. Alexander Marcus and his ilk needed to respond to an uncivilized threat in a civilized time and for that, they needed a warrior's mind. _My_ mind, to design weapons and warships.”

 

Spock cuts in again, clearly unimpressed. “You are suggesting that the Admiral violated every regulation he vowed to uphold simply because he wanted to exploit your intellect.”

 

“He wanted to exploit my _savagery_! Intellect alone is useless in a fight, Mr. Spock...” he glares right at his First Officer, visibly biting back whatever remark he was about to make. “Marcus claimed space exploration was necessary to detect future threats to Earth: what sort of threat could we possibly be, unconscious as we were? But keeping watch wasn't enough: he wanted a militarised Starfleet and forced me to help him realise his vision. And it wasn't just a defensive strategy: you've seen my work, the weapons I had to design for him.” He looks at them, assessing. “Are you familiar with the saying, _si vis pacem, para bellum_? Marcus isn't just preparing for war: he's going to start one.” 

 

He's lying. He's got to be – come on, a _war_? No officer could desire a war, Starfleet lost too much on the battle of Vulcan: advanced weapons or not, they do not have the resources to pull it off, it would be a complete disaster.

“ You're insane. Nobody in Starfleet wants a war, let alone Admiral Marcus.”

 

“He doesn't? Then who sent you here, Captain?” He asks, faintly mocking. “Who gave you orders to fire my torpedoes on an unsuspecting planet? Your engines have been sabotaged, you can't run and you can't hide... Tell me, Captain, what do you think would have happened afterwards?” 

 

Unhinabited province or not, the Klingon would have been royally pissed off. They would have found them in a second, like the fucking sitting ducks they are and they wouldn't have had a single chance of escaping and of course Marcus would have denied everything, claimed they had nothing to do with the explosion on Kronos and the attack was completely unprovoked... There was just one possible way it could end.

 

The worse thing is, it makes perfect sense.

 

“No. No. You are a terrorist and a murderer, I won't...” 

 

“Marcus took my crew from me!”

 

“You blew up a room full of unarmed officers!” Fuck, he's screaming, but he can't stop. “You killed them in cold blood! How long had you been planning that?!” 

 

Harrison's composure slips again, this time even more noticeably so. “What?”

 

Jim almost throws himself at him, forgetting about the glass, the cameras, everything. “You know what I'm talking about! Daystrom! The emergency protocol you used against us! Don't you dare pretend you don't! The attack on the Archive was just a decoy for your real objective!”

 

Harrison keeps staring at him, but instead of more anger, Jim suddenly realizes he's looking at pure, unadultered shock . “My real objective was and has always been my crew. I attacked Section 31 because I thought Marcus would want to recover the cryotubes. I was going to wake them up and...”

 

“And what? Hitch a ride out of Solar system? Forgive and foget?” 

 

“I escaped from the Siberian facility five days ago. It took me more than 24 hours just to reach London, and another three days to plan and carry out my attack on Section 31. I didn't have _time_ to pop off to San Francisco, let alone infiltrate Starfleet High Command! The facial recognition softwares would have picked me up the moment I set foot in the city.” 

 

Jim's stomach clenches. It is true, San Francisco is one of the most secure cities in the world. He can feel Harrison's eyes on him, but he won't look at him, won't meet his gaze, he  _can't_ . 

 

“I haven't lied to you, Captain, I won't start now. Was I planning to destroy Marcus and cripple Starfleet? Yes, but not before my crew was safe and conscious, and possibly on their way out of the galaxy. Not a minute before that, I wouldn't have risked them just for the sake of revenge. They are my family, Kirk. Is there anything you would not do for your family?”

 

Family. His crew.  _Chris._

 

“Who planted those bombs, then?” He's not even shouting anymore. 

 

“I have no idea, though I can hazard a guess...” 

 

“Are you implying the Admiral himself orchestrated the attack?” Even Spock's voice is shaking – and fuck, he hasn't said that Marcus wanting a war is impossible, illogical... He'd be lying if he did, wouldn't he? And Vulcans don't lie. “ _Why_?” 

 

“I gathered Admiral Pike was one of the Daystrom casualties, wasn't he?” Khan says. “I never met him, but I've heard his name mentioned among those who would have pushed for a diplomatic resolution. He probably wasn't the only one in that room, was he? Such an attack on Starfleet would drum up popular support for the upcoming war and allow him to replace all problematic officers with others loyal to him or who could be sympathetic to his cause. After all,” he adds bitterly. “He had a convenient scapegoat in the form of a traitorous agent with ties to the Klingons.” 

 

For a moment, nobody speaks.

 

“The logic is sound,” Spock says, sounding slightly reluctant – which must be the Vulcan equivalent of pulling teeth. “But you forget he was in the room as well: surely it would have been needlessly dangerous.” 

 

Not if he already knew where all the explosive was. As the highest-ranking officer, he had been in charge of the meeting, his own flag officer had assigned the seats around the table...

 

Marcus' flag officer... There was something about him grating at the back of his mind, something he can't quite grasp.

Jim closeshis eyes for a moment, trying to picture the room, the exact position of each and every person, slowly adding in what everybody had said and done – Marcus' speech, the images from London, his own whispered argument with Chris and then his intuition, getting up and walking toward the windows and that's it, something moving out of the corner of his eye...

 

His eyes fly open with a strangled gasp.

He moved. Half a second before the bombs went off, while everybody was either looking at him or at Admiral Marcus, Lt. Carter  _looked up and moved away from the table_ . 

The fucking bastard knew what was coming – and if he knew that, then so did Marcus.

 

Both Khan and Spock are staring at him, their argument momentarily interrupted, but before he can say anything, Sulu's voice comes over the intercom: “Proximity alert, sir. There's a ship at warp heading right for us and it's not coming from Kronos.”

 

Jim looks up, right into Khan's eyes: for a moment, they understand each other without saying a word. They both know who it is, the only person it could possibly be.

 

“Fuck. Commander, with me. Lieutenant, move Khan to Sickbay and post 6 security officers on him.” 

 

He barely hears her answer as he runs to the bridge, Spock following hot on his heels.

 

 


	9. Jim

 

The shields go up just in time: Marcus' ship comes out of warp right in front of them, black and intimidating. It looks like the _Enterprise_ on steroids, but it mostly reminds him of the _Narada –_ pretty ironic, considering its purpose.

Still, it doesn't matter: they have to get out of here and their only hope is not to let Marcus suspect anything.

 

Jim smiles at Chris' murderer, and makes sure to look pleasantly surprised. He's got decades of practice at playing dumb – funny, he never thought he'd need this particular skill against Starfleet.

 

Marcus does obliquely mention his orders, but it's not enough, if they're going to bring him down they need more. He'll have to show his cards – well, one of them, at least.

“ Per Starfleet regulation, I'm planning to return...  _Khan_ to Earth to stand trial.”

 

Marcus seemingly deflates a little, rubbing a hand against his face. “Well, shit. You talked to him.”

 

And here it comes, the greater good spiel: Marcus' sort always falls back on that. The words are a little different, but the gist is always the same.

Even though he was expecting it, he almost betrays himself when Marcus dares to bring up Chris

 

“I made a mistake... and now the blood of everybody he's killed is on my hands.”

 

How he manages to say that without blushing, Jim will never know... But of course, every mean is justified as long as it's for the greater good.

He probably sees himself as a tragic hero, forced to make sacrifices to defend the Human race from evil aliens – God, it sounds like bad 20 th century science fiction.

 

“...give him to me so I can end what I started.” 

 

How moving. Really, Jim is hard pressed not to start clapping: it's a perfect interpretation of the tortured-yet-earnest, paternal superior officer.

Time go on the offensive again, and give Marcus a bit more rope.

 

“And what exactly would you like me to do with the rest of his crew, sir?” He asks oh-so-politely, each word edged with steel. “Fire them at the Klingons? End 72 lives? Start a war in the process?” 

 

With each word, Marcus turns a deeper and deeper red – anger, not shame.

“I had nothing to do with it! _He_ put those people in those torpedoes. When we found out, I gave precise orders to dismantle them and turn over those already cleared – somebody dropped the ball, and I intend to find out who it was.” 

 

_Sure you do._

 

“I assure you I have no intention of using them. You saw what this man can do all by himself, can you imagine what would happen if we woke up the rest of his crew?” 

 

Using them. Interesting word choice – does he even realize what he has just admitted?

 

“What else did he tell you? That he's a peacekeeper? He's playing you, son, don't you see that?” 

 

_Sure._ _**He** _ _is playing me_ . _Take that “son” and choke on it, you fucking bastard._

 

“Khan and his crew were condemned to death as war criminals, and now it's our duty to carry out that sentence before anybody else dies because of him. Now, I'm going to ask you again. One last time, son: lower your shields. Surrender all of them to my custody, I'll take care of everything.” 

 

Jim looks right at him, every inch the chastened junior officer, and lies. “He's in Engineering, sir. I'll have him moved to the transporter room right away and I'll arrange shuttles for the torpedoes.”

 

Marcus nods. “You're doing the right thing, son. Don't worry about anything, I'll take it from here.”

 

The moment the transmission blinks out, Jim's out of his chair. “Do  _not_ drop those shields, Mr. Sulu.” 

 

“Aye, Captain.” 

 

Spock is out of his station, too. “May I know the details of your plan, Captain?”

 

“I told Marcus we were bringing a fugitive back to Earth,” he says as he opens an internal channel to Engineering. “And that's what we're going to do. Mr. Chekov, can we warp?” 

 

Just from the amount of background noise, he can tell it won't be a good answer.

“Sir, if we go to warp, we run the risk of seriously damaging the core.” 

 

“Can we do it?” 

 

They've got to, Marcus will surely scan the shuttles: he'll notice right away there are no torpedoes. Even if they manage to board that monstruosity, by the time they get there their only witness will be dead, and with him any hope of proving Marcus was behind the attack on Daystrom.

 

“Technically, yes,” Chekov replies, exhasperated. “But I wouldn't advise it, Captain.”

 

“Noted. Mr. Sulu, set course for Earth.” 

It's not the first inadvisable thing he has done today, but it's the first he'll never regret.

 

*******

 

Their escape only lasts a handful of seconds: one moment Carol rushes in with a warning, the next they're being attacked and knocked out of warp.

They can't fire back and they can't run anymore, they're too far from any kind of help.

They only have Carol, and Jim can't help but admire her for the way she stands up to her father and declares her willingness to die with them.

 

Unfortunately, all it does is buy them a few minutes' reprieve, and then Marcus plucks her out of the bridge right under their noses and there isn't a goddamned thing they can do to stop him, he'll destroy them all and there's nothing he can do, he hasn't got a plan and he hasn't got time...

 

All he has is himself, and though it's not much of a bargain chip, he has to try.

 

“My crew was just following my orders. I take full responsibility for my actions, but they were mine and mine alone.”

 

_I've practically admitted to treason in front of witnesses, you can use this._

 

“If I transmit Khan's location to you now all that I ask is that you spare them.” 

 

_They'll go along with the cover-up, I'll make sure of it, I'll make it an order..._

 

“Please, sir. I'll do anything you want. Just let them live.” 

 

_I'm sorry, Chris._

 

“Well, that's a hell of an apology,” Marcus replies. “But if it's any consolation, I was never going to spare your crew. Fire when...”

 

The transmission is cut off, but he's heard the order, everybody has.

 

Jim can feel his bridge crew looking at him, waiting for a plan, a miracle and he's got nothing, he's out of time and out of ideas.

The last thing he wants is to face them, but he forces himself to turn around anyway.

He failed them, all of them. He was supposed to keep them safe and instead he killed them all and the worst thing is they don't even look angry or disappointed, just... calm.

Starfleet Officers to the end.

 

As much as it hurts, he won't look away from them. He owes them this much.

_Only a few seconds, now..._

 

And then, suddenly, a miracle happens: instead of firing, Marcus' phasers suddenly power down.

“ _Enterprise_! Can you hear me?”

 

Scotty.

 

Scotty's on Marcus' ship and has just saved their asses. They have another chance – and Jim will not waste it.

One way or the other, his crew will survive. 

 


	10. Khan

Marcus came too quickly.

As they handcuff him and walk him out of his cell, Khan keeps his eyes down and thinks, keeps looking for a way out, an idea,  _anything._ ..  But he's got nothing, save for a single thought that keeps echoing in his mind no matter how many times he pushes it away.

Marcus came too quickly. It's all over now.

His torpedoes, his  _friends_ are here, closer than they've ever been since they were taken from their ship and he can't reach them. 

 

Oh, he could easily get out of their restrains and overpower the six security officers Kirk assigned him, but then where would he go? He can't fly the  _Enterprise_ alone, his friends wouldn't wake up in time... and wake up to what, then? 

 

They're halfway down the corridor when Marcus' voice comes over the intercomm – Kirk is having the transmission broadcast all over the ship, is he reckless enough to denounce him  _publically_ ?

The explosion he was expecting never comes: instead, Kirk greets the Admiral politely, almost pleasantly.

For a long, terrifying second, Khan wonders if he's still in denial about his precious Starfleet... but no, he's baiting Marcus about the warp core malfunction, careful enough not to lose plausible deniability.

 

The last door opens into what can only be the Medical Bay: the CMO distractedly waves him toward one of the exhamination tables and he can't help but tense a bit even though nobody is paying attention to him, spellboud by the exchange.

 

It sounds like Kirk is trying to goad Marcus into making admissions. If he's smart he won't bring up Pike at all, though if he really wants to convince Marcus he's on his side, he'll have to hand over Khan himself and all the torpedoes.

Khan can't even blame him too much: if he were in Kirk's place, he wouldn't hesitate a second to save his crew. He almost feels sorry for him, because he won't succeed.

 

Khan refers to his crew as his family because it's the closest approximation he can find, but they are more than that: they're his whole world, his  _everything._ He'll kill them with his own hands before he lets Marcus hurt them – the Medical Bay isn't too far from Engineering, the damaged core will be easily overloaded.

They will all burn, like stars.

 

How strange: the thought of harming them should revolt him, shake him to the core, yet all he feels is anger – at Starfleet, at Marcus, at Fate, God, the Universe for bringing him to this decision, this moment.

For showing him without a doubt that all he ever did to save them, from Kronos to the  _Botany Bay_ , has been completely useless.  _Pointless_ !

If only they had known it would end like this... They could have died together, on their own terms, with Khaled and Emma and Sofia and all others who gave their lives to cover their escape. All useless, all in vain...

It's not fair, none of it. He's not usually given to recriminations and their lives have never been fair to begin with, but all he ever wanted to do was save them, instead... instead...

It's too cruel.

 

Perhaps  _he_ is being needlessly cruel: perhaps he should give them a chance, perhaps one of the others will succeed where he failed... 

No, it's just wishful thinking: even without West, Marcus will find other ways to poison them, or worse. Their superior bodies can recover from almost anything, nerve damage included, but they cannot regrow missing limbs and, as the late Dr. DiSalvo said, weapon designers don't really need legs.

How can he even think of abandoning them?

 

They won't suffer, they won't even know, but it has to be him, and it has to be now, before Kirk...

 

“He's in Engineering, sir.” 

 

...Kirk  _lied._ Why? Is he planning something, or is it just to keep him from escaping? 

 

Before he can find an explaination, the  _Enterprise_ moves again – from the way his stomach clenches, it jumps right to warp.

 

Since they can't fight, they're fleeing, presumably back to Earth with proof of Marcus' treason.

It wouldn't even be a bad plan, if it wasn't for a small, unfortunate detail...

 

“If you think you're safe at warp, you're wrong.” 

 

Marcus' daughter looks confused for half a second, then the penny drops and she rushes out, probably heading for the bridge.

If Kirk had any sense, he'd use her as a bargaining chip, but Khan suspects he's far too innocent for that. Or perhaps just not motivated enough...

 

The  _Vengeance_ catches up with them in a matter of seconds and opens fire. It's not as noisy as the weapons he knew, but the effects are much more devastating: the doctor recalls all medical personell and shoos Khan and his armed guards out of the way. 

The first wounded start coming in – burns, broken bones mostly, everybody else refuses to stay. From their franctic words, it seems that several decks were breached. Most of their comerades are already dead, then – space is unforgiving.

 

For a moment, Khan debates whether he should join the fray, offer assistance in some way – he did help design that ship. But if he does nothing, he won't have to be the one to kill this family...

 

Marcus' daughter reveals her presence on board, stopping the attack for a few seconds before being beamed to safety, then there's Kirk again, begging for the lives of his crew...

 

Khan is completely unprepared for the stab of sympathy that rushes through him. Such an earnest, desperate attempt... Men willing to lay down their lives he has known, but a man who'll sacrifice his pride is much rarer.

 

Even though he should know better than hope, he almost wishes Marcus would accept the trade Kirk has just offered – not for his own life, but for Khan's. There's a chance the Admiral will want to see the virus at work: if he carries enough explosives when he's beamed over...

 

But no, Marcus has evidently decided to cut his losses.

Even with seconds left to live, the Enterprise crew is strangely collected – dignified even. No mad stampede for non-existant escape, no hysterics, just soldiers –  _young_ soldiers, how had he not noticed it before? – at their post, waiting.

Khan closes his eyes. If he cannot be with his family, it won't be a shame to die surrounded by such people.

 

As much as he loathes to have any kind of positive feelings associated with Marcus, he can't help but feel relived.

It will be all over soon. His family won't suffer. He won't have to be their murderer, not any more than he already is.

 

What a waste. What a terrible waste...

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early double update because I'm getting married tomorrow - I'm sorry it couldn't be a cheerful one, too ^^' 
> 
> Also: yes, Khan gets a tiny bit queasy when ships jump to warp. He's 300 years old, he hasn't had time to get used to it.


	11. Khan

The phaser cannons are jammed. Somehow, Kirk has got one of his men on the  _Vengeance._

They aren't safe, he has just bought them a handful of minutes, but the  _Enterprise_ crew just...  _changes_ , there's no other word for it, going from dignified waiting to feverish activity. They're still afraid, they'd be mad not to be, but now they're also hopeful. Combative. 

They have a chance – a microscopic one, that's true, but they're determined to make the most of it. Their Captain will come up with something, it's what he always does and fuck, it hurts to see so much trust, so much faith.

It reminds him too much of his own crew, and look where he got them...

 

Kirk strides into the Medical Bay and comes straight at him. He looks even more furious than he did in the brig.

 

“Tell me everything you know about that ship.” 

 

Perhaps he shouldn't help them – what good will it do? He just has to wait a few minutes more and it will all be over... but hope, it seems, is contagious.

 

“Dreadnought class. Two times the size, three times the speed. Advanced weaponry. Modified for a minimal crew. Unlike most Federation vessels, it's built solely for combat.” 

 

Kirk listens attentively, taking everything in. “Any way to get in undetected? Hangar doors, airlocks, maintenance tubes?”

 

“A boarding party? It won't work, a shuttle will never...” 

 

“We won't be going by shuttle.” 

 

Khan raises an eyebrow. “We?”

He can't mean to take him along, no Starfleet officer would risk it.

 

But Kirk nods, his voice firm. “We. Less people, less chance to get caught and it's easier if there's at least one who knows the terrain beforehand.” He steps closer. “Let's be clear: I will do everything I can to make you answer for your crimes, whatever they may be. But Marcus will pay for everything he has done and if you help me, I can guarantee your crew's safety.”

 

Brave words for a man who can't even guarantee the safety of his own ship – Khan almost points it out, but reconsiders: needlessly antagonizing Kirk will get him nowhere and there's only so much hypocrisy he can stand, even from himself.

 

“So? You coming with me or what?” 

 

Kirk really has no patience.

 

Khan nods. “Your man on the  _Vengeance_ ... Scotty? Call him _._ We'll need him.”

 

 

********

 

Kirk doesn't waste any time: the Enterprise starts moving into position while they go put on their spacesuits.

They're nothing like the big, bulky things Khan remembers from his time, yet Kirk doesn't even give it a second glance, just slips it on as though it were something commonplace like a pair of pajamas.

So many new technologies... Marcus claimed he had completely caught up to the 23 rd century, but it was only in the areas he deemed useful: Khan suspects he barely scratched the surface of everything there is to learn.

 

When he looks up, Kirk is staring at him in puzzlement, but doesn't ask any questions.

Khan scowls and starts putting on the suit: this is not the moment for curiosity and regrets.

 

The security team escorts them to a hatch and they climb down into the – fortunately empty – garbage exhaust.

 

“Scotty, how we doing over there?” Kirk asks into his radio – no, not radio, communicator. 

 

“Captain, I wish I had better news,” the other man replies. “They've locked out access to the the ship's computer. They'll have full weapons in 3 minutes. This means next time I won't be able to stop them destroying the _Enterprise._ Stand by.” 

 

Three minutes isn't much, even for a superior man, but they can make it. They  _must._

 

The Vulcan announces that the ship are aligned, but the man on the other side still isn't ready – at least he seems to have found the right hangar.

 

“Whoa, whoa, hold on now, Captain! This door is very wee, I mean, you know, small!” Scotty suddenly protests. “It's 4 square meters, tops. It's gonna be like jumping out of a moving car, off a bridge, into your shot glass!” 

 

Colorful description, but pretty accurate. He just hopes that Kirk doesn't lose his nerve now.

 

“It's okay, I've done this before,” Kirk replies, and from his voice he sounds like he _means_ it. 

 

He can't be. He must be exaggerating, but his First Officer isn't calling him out on this – could it possibly be true?

He doesn't remember turning, but he's staring right at Kirk now.

 

Kirk makes a vague gesture with his hand. “Yeah, it was vertical. We jumped onto a... it was a...”

 

Is he  _blushing_ ?

 

“It doesn't matter. Scotty!”

 

“Did you find the manual override?” Khan asks over the communicator, immediately echoed by the Captain. 

 

“The manual override, Scotty.”

 

“Not yet, not yet!” 

 

Scotty is starting to sound out of breath.

 

Commander Spock speaks again over the intercom – apparently there's a field of debris between the two ships, one more danger in an already dangerous situation.

 

He crouches down, waiting for the much-harried Scotty to give the all clear. After a second, Kirk follows him – he can feel his body pressed against his own from shoulder to thigh.

For a brief, mad second, Khan doesn't feel alone anymore: he has an ally, somebody who is fighting on his side.

It's a very irrational feeling – Kirk may be honourable, but he's still Starfleet, still an enemy – and Khan does his best to suppress it immediately, but he can't deny they're both fighting for the same reasons.

 

It's sad to say, but it's the closest he has felt to another living being in the last 18 months.

 

There's a cry of triumph: “Yes! Okay, I'm set to open the door.”

 

“You ready?” Kirk asks, a clear challenge in his voice. 

 

Khan's not going to be outdone by a human. “Are you?”

 

“Spock, pull the trigger.” 

 

“Yes, Captain. Launching activation sequence in 3... 2... 1...” 

 

There's a loud hiss and then they're off, into the darkness of space, flying without wings.

The  _Vengeance_ stands – hangs? – before them, dark and foreboding, but the phaser cannons are still dead and unmoving. 

 

It's almost incredible that he'll have another chance to capture it for his crew – the very last one, now there is no room for errors.

Everything will end as it began, with the  _Vengeance._

 

******

 

Debris, the Vulcan called them. Bits and pieces of their ship rather, but Khan supposes it will be easier to think of them that way.

Intellectually, he knew that the  _Enterprise_ must have suffered a lot of damage, but to see it like this...

 

_Humans! Making battlefields wherever they go, even in space!_

 

Yet he can't help but glance toward the younger captain as they start flying through the wreckage – is he thinking about the crew-members he lost? Planning his own revenge on Marcus?

But Kirk is still staring straight ahead, at the enemy ship – a man with a mission.

 

Khan privately acknowledges he has better nerves than any other human he has ever met, and that's the last thought he can spare him: the debris are getting bigger and closer together.

 

Kirk ends up off course trying to avoid a collision, but he can't avoid the smaller pieces – screws, almost invisible metal fragments, those prove the most dangerous.

Khan hears his faceplate crack, and Kirk's muttered curse.

 

“Captain, what was that?” Commander Spock asks.

 

“My helmet was hit.” 

 

“Khan, use evasive action. There's debris directly ahead.” 

 

“I see it,” Khan assures him, immediately starting to turn, and then....

 

Then there's only pain, everything hurts and he can't see, can't breathe, can't tell where's up and down and where he's supposed to go – what the fuck happened?

He can distantly hear voices through his communicator – Spock, and Kirk, and the  _Vengeange_ , fuck, he needs to get back on course or he'll lose momentum. 

 

He hit the debris – a miscalculation, or perhaps his reflexes are slowing down and either option sends shivers down his spine.

No. No, it can't be. The fragment moved unexpectedly, that's what must have happened. And even if he hit it, what then? He's an Augment, he can take one measly crash!

It doesn't mean anything. He's not – he's not... he  _ can't _ be, not now, not when he's so  _ close _ !  _ Finire così _ ...

 

But it had to begin some time, didn't it? He has been living on borrowed time, stretching both his own body and the Beta-24 to the limit: he knew there would be a price to pay. He had been hoping it wouldn't be so high, that he'd be the only one to pay it...

It doesn't matter. He can still save them, still make sure they get out of here alive and whole.

He's a superior being, he can do this. He  _must._

 

The  _Enterprise_ is still trying to contact him. Just as he's about to answer, Kirk's voice comes over the communicator: “Spock, my display is dead. I'm flying blind.” 

 

“Captain, without your display compass hitting your target destination is mathematically impossible.”

 

“Spock, if I get back, we really need to talk about your bedside manner.” 

He doesn't even even sound scared, only annoyed – what a strange human Kirk is. In spite of the situation, Khan almost smiles.

 

Later, he will claim he did it only because he had no choice: the  _Enterprise_ was listening, they wouldn't have been happy if he had let their Captain die. He'll say that Kirk had all the weapons, that he still needed him for his plan, but none of this will be the entire truth.

 

The truth is, Khan doesn't even think about it: he is tired of losing people and while Kirk isn't a member of his family, he's his ally – he may very well be his crew's last hope, if all else fails. If he fails again....

But if he can save at least him, perhaps then he isn't cursed, his mission isn't doomed to failure. Perhaps there's still a chance for his family.

 

“My display is still functioning. I see you, Kirk.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finire così: "To end like this..." (Italian). Quote from Puccini's opera "Tosca" - it's Tosca's cry of despair when she discovers that the evil Scarpia, who promised to organize a fake execution for her lover Cavaradossi if she had sex with him (consent not strictly required, although she stabbed him before they did anything), tricked her: Cavaradossi was shot with real bullets and is dead.


	12. Jim

When Spock informs him that reaching the cargo port without a display compass is practically impossible, Jim has to bite back a groan and several rude words – yes, thank you, he didn't know that already!

 

“Spock, if I get back, we really need to talk about your bedside manner.”

 

And his priorities. Right now Jim really doesn't want to hear about mathematics and probabilities: there  _must_ be a way to do it, he'll be damned if he lets his crew get killed by a war-mongering psychopath. 

Perhaps if they guide him from the  _Enterprise._ ..

 

Then the comm transmits again and it's Khan's voice this time.

“ My display is still functioning. I see you, Kirk, you're 200 meters ahead of me at my one o'clock,” he says, all nonchalant and cool as though he were taking a stroll through the park on a sunny day and not, you know, jumping out of a moving car, off a bridge,  _et cetera_ . “Come to your left a few degrees and follow me.”

 

Jim does, without waiting for confirmation from the  _Enterprise_ and he swears he can hear Spock's teeth grinding from here. If it wasn't a life-or-death situation, he'd be seriously tempted to rub it in his face because this is how it's done: run into a problem, find a solution.

 

Then he hasn't got a single to thought to spare to either Spock or Khan because the  _Vengeance_ is getting closer and Scotty isn't answering his comm. 

“ Do you copy? Scotty?”

 

_Captured or dead_ , he thinks even as he keeps repeating his name, and the  _Vengeance_ is right there, here's the cargo door but they won't make it, if doesn't open  _now._ .. 

 

This must be a day for miracles, because it does: he and Khan barely fit through, but they're  _in._ Something big and decidedly human-shaped rushes past them, but he won't think about it, not now, not when he's sure it was too big to be Scotty anyway. 

 

The airlock closes and they crash to the ground, rolling and sliding ungracefully for the last few meters.

Scotty is standing by the cargo station, grinning. “Welcome aboard.”

 

Jim grins right back, slowly sitting up. “It's good to see you, Scotty.”

On his left, Khan gets up to his knees, too, struggling to get his helmet off.

 

“Who's that?”

 

Jim gestures widely between between the two, “Khan, Scotty, Scotty...”

The introduction is interrupted by the sound of violent retching. He probably shouldn't say anything: space-jumping isn't for everyone and Khan doesn't strike him as the type to admit weakness, but he turns toward him anyway, just to make sure he's okay...

 

That's when he sees red – literally, even in this dark hangar, under this white-blue light: thick, red liquid splattered on the steel floor, staining Khan's mouth, his lips as he shudders against another heave.

Blood. Khan is throwing up blood.

 

“Shit!” Jim scrambles to get his feet under him, rushing to the Augment's side. “Fuck, where did you get hit? Scotty, find a first-aid kit! We gotta call Bones...” 

 

“I'm fine,” Khan wheezes, trying to stand. 

 

“The Hell you are!” Without thinking, Jim reaches for his shoulder. “Sit down, you can't...” 

 

“I said I'm fine!” Khan shouts, and next thing Jim knows he's on his ass on the floor, incredulously staring up at the Augment. 

 

“They'll know we're here, we must hurry,” Khan says as he rises, as if nothing unusual had happened.

 

“Khan, I don't think...”

 

“You don't have to worry, Captain: I won't slow you down,” he growls.

 

“That's not what I...” 

 

But he doesn't listen – doesn't believe him. “The phasers, Captain. We're wasting time we do not have.”

 

Jim's already opening his mouth to argue, but... Goddamn him, he's right. Every second counts now.

Silently cursing Marcus, the whole situation and stubborn super-humans, he takes off the backpack and quickly assembles the phasers, handing the first to Scotty and the second to Khan.

 

“It's locked to stun,” he warns him, just to make it clear that shooting Marcus will be useless. 

 

“Theirs won't be.” 

 

“Then try not to get shot.”

 

Khan favors him with his haughtiest look, then simply turns on his heels and ventures into the bowels of the ship.

Jim and Scotty have no choice but to follow him.

 

_But the moment we're done, his ass is getting beamed straight to Sickbay!_

 

*****

 

“Where is everyone?” 

 

Scotty just had to ask, didn't he?

 

Jim has barely time to notice that most of them seem to descend on Khan, then there's three more in front of him them – Scotty rushes one, grappling with him but Jim hasn't got time to see how he's doing.

Grabbing unto a walkway, he manages to kick Bastard One hard enough to knock him out, but Bastard Two is on him, punching and hitting and Jim has to knock him out now, they don't have to be captured for their mission to fail.

He keeps punching him, but the bastard just won't go down and suddenly Khan appears behind him, like a vengeful wraith, and grabs him in a choke-hold – the other guy tries to elbow him, claw at him but Khan doesn't move, doesn't even react. He just keeps squeezing.

Bastard Two's face is getting redder and redder, his eyes bulging and for a moment, Jim is afraid Khan will actually strangle him – and even if it's one of Marcus' man, he's Starfleet and Jim can't let this happen, but how on Earth is he going to stop Khan without stunning him?

Luckily, Bastard Two passes out, and Khan drops him to the floor like a sack of rags.

 

The corridor behind him is littered with bodies. Most of them appear to be still breathing.

Khan incapacitated them all in a matter of seconds. It's the same ruthless efficiency he displayed on Kronos, but now there's something different about him: he looks wild, unrestrained...

 

_So this is what they meant with savagery_ , Jim thinks despite himself. It's a bit terrifying. 

 

“This way,” Khan says, breaking into a run.

 

Jim picks up his phaser and scrambles after him. Behind him, Scotty swears. “You ok, there?”

 

“Bit banged up, but okay, sir.”

 

“Come on, we're almost there.” They must be. The ship's phasers haven't fired yet but it might be any second, now. “When we get to the bridge, the main computer is all yours. Stun whoever gets in your way.” 

 

“Aye, sir.”

 

They run faster.

 

*****

 

The doors open before them.

 

“Power's coming back onl-” Khan stuns him before he can go any further, then the bridge is a whirlwind of screams and phaser fire. 

Marcus' men don't have time to fire back – most of them don't even have time to rise from their stations.

 

A few seconds and it's all over, it's  done. They've captured the  _Vengeance._

 

There's only Marcus left, still in his Captain chair – right in Jim's line of fire. “Admiral Marcus, you are under arrest.”

 

Marcus stares at him – no, not quite at him, but at somebody standing somewhere behind him and from the furious typing he hears further back and the horror and hatred on Marcus' face, there's only one person it could be.

“Still standing... You have been holding out on us, Khan.” 

 

_What the Hell does that mean?_ Jim glances over his shoulder, but Khan is just standing against a console, still winded from the fight.  _Better take control of this conversation before he does anything rash._

 

“Get out of the chair, Admiral.”

 

That finally catches the bastard's attention. “What do you think you're doing Kirk?”

 

“Stopping you.” 

 

“Arrest me now and our entire way of life is decimated! Do you really think you got away without a trace? And even if you did, war is coming: you need me in charge and all the weapons we can get.” 

 

“We are not weapons!” Khan's growl turns into a cough.

 

_Dear God, I thought he meant the Vengeance..._

 

He can't help but glace at Carol, who looks just as horrified as he feels. “Dad!”

 

“Oh, don't be naïve, both of you! It's what they were made for, we might as well use them!” 

 

Another cough, and he expected Khan to protest, or yell, or curse him, but he just...keeps coughing. It sounds like he's about to hack up his lungs.

“You okay there?”

 

Jim's eyes are still on Marcus, so he catches the exact moment where his expression changes: he suddenly looks smug, almost triumphant. “Ah, I thought so. Not so invincible after all, are you?”

 

“What the fuck does that mean?” Jim growls.

 

Marcus doesn't even answer, just fucking  _smirks._

 

Before Jim can ask again, Carol gasps and behind him there's the unmistakable sound of a body hitting the floor.

“Khan?” Fuck, fuck, he can't take his eyes off of Marcus, who knows what he'll do! “Khan, talk to me!”

 

Scotty moves his chair, swears and dives back to his station. “This looks bad, Captain! Preparing emergency transport to the  _Enterprise._ ”

 

“Wait, it might make it worse!” Carol shouts, already reaching for the emergency kit. 

 

“It's too late,” Marcus says, and the asshole dares to look _amused._ “Carol, get away from him!”

 

No answer, but there are two smaller thuds, like knees hitting the ground, then a lock clicks and a tricorder starts beeping.

 

“What have you done to him?!” If he doesn't talk, he'll beat the answer out of him, so help him God.... 

 

“Do you really expect me to help you save that, Kirk? There's no cure, we made sure of it. We couldn't have our weapons getting away from us again, could we?” 

 

“Bullshit! Tell us the truth, it will count for something at your trial, I swear!”

 

The hiss of an hypospray, then another.

 

“Don't you get it, Kirk? There will be no trial.” Marcus replies, leaning back into the chair. “It's over. I wouldn't help you even if I knew how.” 

 

Shit, he's telling the truth: if he knew the cure, he wouldn't resist rubbing it in their faces. He'll just sit there and watch him die and he'll  _enjoy_ it, it's written all over his face... 

 

Khan lets out a pained groan. Jim pulls the trigger, and Marcus is slammed back against the chair before slowly slipping to the floor, unconscious.

 

Jim doesn't even see him: he's already kneeling by Khan's side. “Readings?”

 

Carol shakes her head. “All his major organs are failing and he's bleeding internally. I've slowed that down, but I don't know what to do about the rest.”

 

“Let me see!” Scotty appears at her shoulder, peering at the display. “Shit, we can't beam him over, it'd kill him!”

 

“Does this flying tank have a Sickbay?”

 

“Yes, but there's no medical personnel on board...”

 

Khan's hand darts up, grabbing Jim's arm.

 

“Don't move, it's gonna be okay – Scotty, call the _Enteprise_ , 10 Whiskey 1; Carol, the transporter! Khan, it's me, Kirk, can you hear me? You're gonna be okay, just hold on a little longer, Bones is coming...”

 

Khan's grip tightens, his eyes finally opening and finding Jim's. “My crew...Please...”

 

“They're fine, don't try to speak...” 

 

“Please...” he whispers again, struggling to sit up. “...must...”

 

“No, don't!” His hands fly to Khan's shoulders, pushing him back down as gently as he dares, yet Khan still tries to resist.

 

“Please...”

 

“Yes, yes, anything you want, but now don't move. I'll take care of them, I promise.” 

 

Khan stares up at him, and oh God, the look on his face, it'll haunt Jim for weeks, he can tell... Then Khan's body abruptly relaxes under his hands, his eyes losing focus.

 

“Hey, no, look at me! Keep looking at me, come on...” 

 

“ _Enterprise_ , we've got a officer down...”

 

“Squeeze my hand if you can hear me, okay? Khan?” 

 

“... I repeat, officer down. Medical team stand by for emergency transport to the _Vengeance._..” 

 

“Khan!”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10 Whiskey 1: entirely made up Starfleet code. "10 Whiskey" means "officer down, requesting immediate medical assistance," the second number varies to specify the number of injured parties.
> 
> So, here we are, at the end of the Part I. As I mentioned before, this fic was born on BotanyCameos' Tumblr: specifically, from a gifset of Sherlock in the hospital after being shot. I looked at it and thought "hey, what if it was Khan instead? What if Khan started throwing up blood when they landed on the Vengeance? What if he had been secretly dying all through the movie?" 
> 
> So you see, at first this was supposed to be the beginning of the story, but then I realized that Khan would do things differently if he knew he was dying. What was the beginning became the ending as I went back to explain all the changes - well, an ending at least. 
> 
> The story certainly doesn't stop here: our heroes will soon be back in "Jim's War."   
> I hope you had as much fun reading as I had writing it.


End file.
